


Egghead

by aravenwood



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Eating Disorders, Harry Hart Lives, Implied/Referenced Anxiety Disorder, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Merlin's Name is Malcolm, Panic Attacks, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood
Summary: Harry's alive... His best friend is alive... So why is he the last to know about it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of a few results of a writing spree in the midst of caffeine-fuelled insomnia. Writing in this fandom makes me nervous, but not so nervous that a vulnerable!Merlin fic will go unwritten when I have the inspiration.
> 
> I don't think I got their voices quite right, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

 “Harry.” The word slides from his lips and takes the remaining air in his lungs with it. For two and a half long months, he’s thrown himself into his work so he can forget about his dead best friend. In only a few seconds, all of that is undone.

 

“Merlin, lovely to see you again,” Harry greets as he keeps one arm around Eggsy for support – the other reaches out as if trying to pull Merlin towards himself with the Force. For someone who was shot in the head at near point-blank range, he’s remarkably put together; not a single scar gives evidence of his death; not even a hair out of place. He’s just a little wobbly, it seems.

 

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” Merlin wants to say; “I grieved for you, you bastard, and you don’t even have the courtesy to stay dead.” But his lungs are empty and he can’t draw breath enough to utter a single word. He lifts a hand to his chest and rubs at it with the heel of his hand, trying to stimulate his airways into action.

 

He knows what’s happening; no one in his line of work has gone through their entire life without at least one panic attack, and he’s had more than his fair share having watched every agent’s missions in the last twenty years. But he’s never been caught off-guard with one quite as much as he is right now.

 

“Merlin?” Harry calls hesitantly. “Merlin, can you breathe?”

 

“Jesus, you’ve given him a heart attack!” Eggsy splutters and reaches into his pocket for his mobile phone.

 

Harry swats his hand away. “It’s not a heart attack, Eggsy,” he reassures and takes a few shaky steps to close the gap between them and Merlin – Eggsy supports him the whole way. “It’s a panic attack. Certainly not the ‘hello’ I was expecting, Merlin.”

 

A weak splutter is Merlin’s only reply. He desperately wants to say something. He wants to say _anything_. After everything, he needs to know how the hell Harry is standing in front of him as if everything is normal. “W-where-?” he manages to say between desperate gasps of air. He’s starting to feel lightheaded.

 

“Be quiet for now. When you can breathe, I’ll tell you everything. But right now, just breathe.” Harry rests a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and squeezes. “Breathe, Malcolm,” he whispers lowly so that the name remains a secret between the two of them.

 

Or if Eggsy hears it, he doesn’t react.

 

Merlin lifts his hand to rest over Harry’s, effectively reassuring himself that he isn’t dreaming and his best friend truly is standing right there in front of him. Sure enough, the hand is just as he remembers; long, calloused fingers slot between his and squeeze. “H-Harry.” He focuses on that grasp and tries to slow his breathing – the strength of the grasp starts to fluctuate as a guide.

 

“It missed. Not completely, but it skimmed along the side of my skull and missed my brain. I’m alright,” Harry explains and that more than anything else calms Merlin.

 

“Then why did you stay away? We thought you were dead!” Merlin snaps. The hand tightens again, warning him to keep calm. “Sorry,” he’s quick to add.

 

“It’s alright. We wanted to give it time before I came home; make sure Valentine didn’t have any remaining allies,” Harry explains.

 

“We?” Merlin turns accusing eyes towards Eggsy.

 

The boy raises his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me. I was in the dark as much as you.”

 

“Morgana and Lancelot. They’re the only ones who knew.” Harry’s eyes are soft and genuine, and Merlin sees no reason not to believe him.

 

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” he finds himself whispering. “What did I do that gave you a reason not to trust me? What have I ever done other than stayed by your side, trusting you to do what you thought was right?”

 

He doesn’t feel like Merlin – right now, he’s Malcolm; the vulnerable, anxious army technician with borderline post-traumatic stress.

 

Harry seems to understand that. He lowers his voice and treats Malcolm like he’s fragile; takes him by the arm and leads him to the nearest chair, then drags another one over so the two of them are directly facing each other.

 

Eggsy leans against the wall next to the door, respecting their privacy.

 

“Malcolm, I would trust you with my life – and I _do_ trust you with it. But at the same time, I trust myself with _your_ life, and when the two conflict, your life comes first. I couldn’t tell you that I’d survived because if anyone else knew – anyone who might want to kill me – they’d come for you. I couldn’t let that happen,” Harry explains solemnly, leaning forwards in his chair to remain within touching distance.

 

“But…I grieved for you. I-I could barely get out of bed most days because I knew you wouldn’t be stopping by my office to distract me from work or invite me to lunch,” Malcolm splutters. _I will not cry_ , he thinks to himself; _I will not cry_.

 

His eyes are wet.

 

Harry looks him up and down, eyes lingering on skinny wrists hidden beneath the sleeves of a soft cardigan. “So instead you didn’t go to lunch.” He says it as if he knows it’s true – which it is. His voice deepens and his eyes harden. “I know exactly what you did, Malcolm. Show me them.”

 

“It,” Malcolm corrects, now lowering his eyes to glare at the ground. Someone told on him? _What is this – primary school?_

 

“It, then. The number really doesn’t matter.” Harry sounds absolutely exhausted, now that Malcolm actually listens, and he’s filled with guilt that he’s worrying the man even when he’s supposed to be dead.

 

Without looking up, he latches onto his right sleeve and starts to roll it up, taking care to ensure that each fold is even and tidy. He’s happy to spend all the time in the world doing this; when one fold goes a little lopsided, he pulls the sleeve all the way down and starts again.

 

Harry swears under his breath – _too much time with Eggsy_ , he thinks but then realises how incorrect that statement has to be – and snatches Malcolm’s hand. He pushes the sleeve up in one long shove and turns the arm over in his hand, his mouth half-open and ready to scold his friend.

 

He’s silenced by what he sees.

 

There’s just one cut; long, neat and vertical. It’s a cut that meant to kill quickly and efficiently.

 

It’s just a shame that someone had interrupted – or maybe not now that he knows Harry is alive.

 

“Why don’t we talk about this for a few minutes? Will you tell me why this is here?” Harry asks. He’s still staring at the cut; healed now but with the skin still raised and ragged.

 

“I got low,” Malcolm answers simply. “I got lonely and afraid and it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

 

“And it just happened to be around the time that you stopped eating? I saw your record – a stone and a half underweight.”

 

He’d forgotten about Eggsy.

 

Harry raises an eyebrow. “A stone and a half? Underweight and a suicide attempt – you won’t blame me if I ask you to move in again?”

 

“Not at all,” Malcolm says simply. After two and a half months apart, that’s hardly a punishment. “May I ask a question, Harry?”

 

“Of course, Malcolm.”

 

“Merlin,” Merlin corrects as he fixes his sleeve – with the cut and therefore his vulnerability hidden, he can use that name again. “Why is there no gunshot scar? You were hit – you said as much – and yet I can see no new injuries save for your leg.”

 

Harry offers him a small smile. “Morgana working her magic again – it’s quite impressive really. But I don’t have a leg injury… Where did you get the idea that I do?” he asks as he brushes a hand across his temple – that must be where the bullet hit because he winces a little.

 

“You…” Merlin pauses. “You were leaning on Eggsy as though you were using him as a crutch…” he says slowly.

 

Eggsy splutters loudly and Harry smiles.

 

“Not quite, Merlin. We were…happy to see each other and I’m not sure either of us were ready to let go just yet. Do you understand?” Harry’s smile breaks into a full grin that used to be a rarity when not aimed at Merlin – during training, he wore it around Eggsy all the time.

 

“I’m not sure I…” Merlin breaks off. “Oh. Congratulations is in order then.”

 

“We were just going to lunch to celebrate,” Eggsy explains, now behind Harry just leaning on his chair. The older man reaches up and drags one hand down so he can comfortably hold it.

 

Oh, Merlin’s using up their time together. He blushes. “Don’t let me ruin that. Have a nice time.” He tries his best not to sound disappointed; two and a half months and after a moment of joy he’s alone again.

 

“Actually,” Harry’s voice cuts through his thoughts, “we were going to invite you along. It means I can keep an eye on your eating habits to ensure you regain any lost weight.”

 

“Come on, Egghead,” Eggsy encourages. Harry snorts at the nickname.

 

Merlin flicks his eyes between them, ensuring that they aren’t just being polite and actually want him along. Harry nods in reassurance. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that name, Unwin,” Merlin says as he stands and adjusts his cardigan. Harry grins and catches his hand while never letting go of Eggsy’s.

 

The boy and his lover exchange knowing glances, but Merlin can’t figure out just _what_ it is they know. He doesn’t bother asking.

 

“Don’t worry, ‘Egghead’; we can discuss alternatives over lunch.”

 

He’s missed that smile on his best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, anyone who reached the end!


End file.
